My own Sunshine
by xox-Punk-Princess-xox
Summary: He's abused, tormented, and hurt, and he just wants to get away from it all.    So he runs away.    Can he find his own sunshine?    Little!Puck    Angst!    Abuse is mentioned!


The sky was grey that day. The clouds blended together in what looked like a very un-appealing lump of cotton candy. Like it had been left in the corner for a really long time, and it was raining. Kind of like when you jump into a swimming pool and it makes a big splash and little droplets of water start to fall. Each step taken made his foot sink into the mud, and it would make a weird squishy noise when he tried to pull it out, and sometimes when he pulled really hard, his shoe would come off. And he'd end up falling into the mud. All the dirt stung his eyes, and he'd have to try really hard not to cry.

He'd get back up, pull his shoe out of the mud; not caring if his feet got dirty, put it back on, and keep walking.

But he didn't know where he was going.

But he just adjusted the strap of his backpack, and kept on walking.

He walked for as long as he could until his feet really started to hurt, and when he stopped, he realized he'd ended up at some kind of park. It wasn't a bigger park, like the one he saw on the bus every morning, but it had one of those little tunnels where people could climb into, he could at least keep dry. He looked around carefully, and then quickly ran over to the tube, crawling inside. He took a second to catch his breath, and rest his weary feet. He didn't take off his shoes to wash the mud off, since he figured it'd be bad if he caught a cold. Though the sweater and jeans he had one were already damp and clinging to his body, and with each new breeze he would start shivering again. He was really, really cold. But if he took his blanket out now, it'd get wet, and then he'd be really, really, _really_ cold. He could handle the wind for now.

He did decide that he was hungry though, so he un-zipped his back and started to rummage around, until he managed to find the little baggie with the peanut butter sandwich he made before he left. He frowned, realizing this wasn't much for the rest of his life, but he'd make it last. So he tore off a tiny bit of the corner, shoved it in his mouth, and put the rest away for later.

He sat there chewing slowly, and thinking about what he was going to do now. He couldn't really live in the little tube for the rest of his life, like one of those little Alien toys on strings that made scary 'bewop!' noises when he pressed the button. That would be really cold, and scary. But the tube was made of metal, so it _was_ really cold. And it was raining, so eventually the tube might fill up with water, and then it'd be really scary since he never could swim that well.

So, soon, he'd be a toy?

If he was going to be a toy, he'd rather be a teddy bear. They got to stay in your bed all day, under the warm covers, and they constantly had someone to hug them, or get told how much they're loved. But people eventually get old, and they throw teddy bears away.

So he guessed he was just an old teddy bear, then.

He sniffled a bit, bringing his knees up to his chest, but not all the way since he was still really sore from last night. When he looked, his chest was all purple and red, like someone had taken paint and smeared it all over his body. Except, the paint hurt _a lot_, and it came with lots of screaming and words that he didn't understand. But the way his Daddy said them, he didn't think he liked hearing them too much.

He was starting to cry now, and he couldn't really stop himself, because every time he tried his throat would start to close up and he wouldn't be able to breathe, and he'd get scared and hysterical and it would just make him cry more, and he ended up curled up with his knees to his chest, crying his eyes out as his whole body shook and ached, and his stomach growled and his mind told him 'go home!' while his heart told him 'it's not safe there.'.

He didn't know what to do.

He wanted to go home.

But he knew he wasn't wanted there.

He stayed like that for a long time. He didn't know how long, but when he finally looked up, it was dark outside, so little hand on the clock must have moved a lot by now. Or it could have been the big hand, he didn't really remember which it was. It was raining harder now, because he could hear the drops of rain hitting the roof of the tunnel really loudly.

He took the blanket he had packed out of his bag, trying to ignore the wind coming through all the holes in the blanket as he wrapped it around himself. He also had to ignore the sharp hunger pains from only having had a small bit of a sandwich in; well, he couldn't remember how long it'd been.

Suddenly, there was a large booming sound that came from the sky, and he gave a startled yelp as he nearly hit his head as he jumped. He peered outside the tunnel for a moment, only to withdraw with a whimper as a flash of lightening struck across the sky, accompanied by another symbol crash of thunder. He was shaking violently now, as he tried to pull the blanket closer to himself without ripping it in half. The wind was picking up, and his clothes weren't all dry yet because it hadn't stopped raining all day, so his teeth were chattering so loudly, he hoped maybe it would drown out the sounds of the thunder.

But it didn't, do he did the only thing he could think of when he got scared.

He started to sing.

_You are my Sunshine_

_My only sunshine_

_You make me happy, when skys are grey._

_You never know dear _

_How much I love you_

_Please don't take my sunshine...away..._

He choked on the last word, as there was an especially loud clap of thunder, and he just sat there _terrified_, because out here, at home, it was all so _scary_ and he just wanted someone to hug him and tell him it's okay, and not to hurt him anymore because he was already sore and didn't know how much he could take before he just ripped open like some old teddy bear that you try to sew back together, but you end up just throwing in the trash.

Was that where he belonged? In the trash?

He closed his eyes, and prayed to a god he knew he shouldn't believe in, but he seemed like he was the only person willing to listen.

Couldn't he have his own sunshine?

It was a while before he decided to go home. He later realized it had been two days, but it seemed a lot longer than that.

He had sat there, hugging his blanket, and staring at the same red wall for how many ever hours he was awake, or he wasn't chewing numbly on a sandwich he was pretty sure had gotten moldy. He had started coughing, and everything seemed really hot- but really cold at the same time, so he figured he had gotten sick. But he could have dealt with all that if it meant not going back there.

But then he remembered.

His little sister was still there.

When people threw out a toy, they usually got a new one to play with, right?

So if he was gone, would they play with her instead? Would they give her those painful paint spots? And all those cuts from broken shards of a bottle that didn't seem to have milk in it? Would he yell at her too? Would he make her cry?

Thinking about all that left a painful feeling in his stomach, unlike the one he got when he drank the chunky milk. It wasn't even that painful, but it made his throat burn all the same. So he decided to go home.

It took him a while to find his way home, since he barely knew where he was to begin with, and by the time he was walking in the door it was dark outside. He opened the door slowly and peaked through the crack. "Mom? I'm home." He announced in a quiet voice.

He didn't hear any response, and as he closed the door behind him, he realized that his Mommy was laying on the couch asleep, with a bottle in her hand. She looked like she was sleeping well, having a really good dream and it was then he realized that she didn't look worried. That's because she hadn't been worried.

Had she even noticed he was gone?

Or worse, did she even care?

He quickly shrugged his backpack off and raced upstairs, not bothering to be quiet since his Mom slept through just about everything, and his Father would still be at work. Though when he got upstairs, he tip toed down the hall, and as he opened the door he did it slowly so it wouldn't be too loud, he didn't want to wake _her_ up.

He crept over, and hopped up onto the stepping stool because he wasn't tall enough to look over the top without it.

"Hey, are you awake...?" he whispered gently, and he smiled as his baby sister made some sort of noise that he liked to describe as a 'burble' as she made grabby hands up at him. He reached into the crib so she could take a hold of his hand, and both of them smiled.

"Hey Sarah, it's your big brother."

"Bwoah!" He laughed softly, and squeezed her hand a bit. "It's Noah, but you'll get the hang of it, won't you?" he said with a smile. She giggled in response, and held onto his hand tightly with both of her smaller pudgy ones, making him grin. "I left for a while, I think it was a few days. Did you miss me?"

And to his shock, she made a small motion that looked almost like a nod, and she almost looked _sad_. Like she actually had missed him, and he collapsed against the side of the crib, laughing almost hysterically as tears started to roll down his face.

"Someone actually missed me...!"

Maybe he wasn't a holy teddy bear. Maybe he could be his little sister's teddy bear.


End file.
